


Snippets

by Doodle_Famous



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-20 03:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodle_Famous/pseuds/Doodle_Famous
Summary: Snippets of live can describe it easier than watching the life play out.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Snippets

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first Witcher fic I've ever written. Thanks to everyone on discord for inspiring me to try by just being amazing!

When you die, people say you’ll see the most precious memories you hold to your chest. Jaskier swore that it would be a nameless, faceless woman that woe’d him for a single loveless night. Or, it would be his first performance at an inn, listening to people sing and nodding their heads to the bard’s exaggerated tale. Hell, he would have even taken the memory of his mom handing over a newly broken then fixed lute and a large coin purse; watching him from the front window with dull yet hopeful eyes that he’ll make a name for himself someday.

Never in a million years did he ever expect it to be of Geralt.

Seeing the hazy lazy morning light caress Geralt’s muscles as he stretched had been an accident. The was each scar on his back bent and twisted with the muscle. Stories upon stories that Jaskier will never be able to put into proper words, much less sing about. He’s tried before but Geralt didn’t tell stories of heroics. He only tells the stories where he failed. Like the one from his upper back down to his hip. Where he was attacked when he was a less trained Witcher.

The moment of vulnerability had been an accident. Another one where Geralt thought and swore that Jaskier was dead asleep at night when he let his permanent scowl drop into a sad frown. Jaskier swore that Geralt probably didn’t notice, but he saw, all the same, the way that his shoulders hunched slightly inwards. Yellow eyes flickered darker as he watched the door to the inn door. Jaskier wanted to reach out, but he never did.

He never did.

He had let chance after chance slip through his fingers. It wasn’t as if he tried so hard to keep his hold on that Witcher. The broad shoulders and low toned voice haunted his days and nights. He would dream of Geralt walking through the door once more. Take him off for another strange adventure that he would cherish. Sing about a love that he saw leave. Towards the arms of that damn witch that only caused him pain. Jaskier was never the jealous type before but seeing them together made his heart shrivel.

He did make a name for himself. He took that coin purse and doubled it more than once. Performing didn’t always turn a profit, even cutting it close with eating somedays, but he got to travel and wander and hope to the gods that he saw Geralt. That the white wolf would find its way home.

That’s what he saw in his last moments. Left gasping on the side of the road as he watched someone crush his lute under their foot as they quickly escape. Gagging on his own blood as the pain ebbed and it was just cold.

It was always cold.


End file.
